Unravel
by foreverfrown
Summary: Vulpes x OC. Sucky summary, sorry. Lacey is like Six in one way - No memory and angry about it. Lacey wouldn't stoop as low as Six did to get what he wanted. She was betrayed by him, and enslaved in the end. All she did was travel from the Capital Wasteland to the Mojave to help the Brotherhood. She can't remember the details, but she knew she didn't deserve what she got.
1. Ch 1 No Vacancy

"What do I owe ya?"  
"Nothin', just stay safe."

* * *

The amount of cracks in the dusty road equaled how many thoughts rushed through my head. Most thoughts couldn't get through the dam of amnesia that had recently been built. A recent injury to my head was blocking memories of mine, and frankly it was annoying. I squinted into the setting sun and sighed. Two days. It'd been two days since I left a kind-hearted man who saved my life. My offers of reimbursement were denied. Denied! The man spent his time and used his own supplies to save a strangers life, and in return wanted only for me to stay safe. Unbelievable.

I wasn't sure about what happened to me, and neither was the doc. All he could tell me was he found me limp but breathing by the entrance of his home in Goodsprings.

Goodsprings. A fine town with fine folk. It had been a stop during my travels farther south. The Brotherhood sent me south from the Capital Wasteland, and sadly that's all I can remember. The others could probably give me more information. Suddenly, I turned to statue in the middle of my traveling.

The others...

Where was the rest of my squad? Panic fluttered in my stomach like birds being scattered from where they sat. Had they died back in Goodsprings? Before that, even? Having them practically vanish from my life with no trace was terrifying. Along with the sadness and shock of not remembering their whereabouts, I worried about another possible problem: Had I forgotten more important information and scenes from my life? These people who I've known for a decent amount of time had blurry images in my mind, could I remember others from my life?

I began to continue my travel as people flashed through my mind: My mother, my father, and a boy who was so vivid in my mind that he must have been my brother. However, even after trying to make up simple, basic features of their faces, I couldn't picture them.

But there was someone else, someone very important I was missing and I had no idea who.

A town appeared in front of me, halting my thoughts. Approaching even closer, I couldn't not notice of the large T-Rex building that towered out front of the town. It was like a guardian. As I took in the sight, I heard bells gently ringing some distance away. They sounded as crisp as the cool air felt, and seemingly coaxed me to think about the person from my home who both heavily weighed in my mind yet wasn't there at all. As they rung, I entered the reception office, still thinking about people from my past. No friends particularly came to mind - there was never an unbelievably close friend I had. Simply people who I could hold a conversation with. However, as an old and tired looking old lady greeted me, I decided to shut out the thought and let it unravel itself.

Renting the room was cheap and quick. I didn't even bother changing into more comfortable clothes when I got in there - the leather armor was fine. I rented this dusty, dead room for simply one night. It was gross and stuffy, anyway. With my pack of supplies on the ground next to my bed and my weapons taken off from where they hung to my body, I finally allowed myself to sleep. It took a while for me to stop bugging my brain to remember people and just sleep, but eventually I did.

Now, I only planned to stay for maybe an hour after waking up in the morning simply so I could leave and figure out what the hell I'm even supposed to be doing. Just an hour. That way I could maybe take a shower if the water here worked and eat something from my bag, ya know, a chill morning. So I think how frustrated I was when I was waken up earlier than when my circadian rhythm wanted was a justifiable emotion.

The shrieking was so fake. Yes, some woman shouting bloody murder woke me up. I plopped my feet on the ground and slid my boots on. The sun shrunk my pupils when I ripped the door open, which only let more sound in and so the screaming louder. It was coming from in front of the big dyno building, where a small crowd gathered to observe. Only just a little bit curious I decided to see who or what I had to thank for being my alarm.

The old woman who handled my rent last night was on her knees, screaming over and over about how awful it was. I choked down a chuckle - her screaming sounded monotone and so obviously forced. Everyone around her seemed to know it, but I wondered if they were curious about why it was fake? Limp on the ground in front of her was a man with dark skin and practically no head. If a man in her town died, shouldn't she be genuinely horrified? Why was she fake screaming?

"Oh dear God..." Mumbled a resident approaching the dead body. The town collectively started talking to each other, asking about what could have happened. Eventually, they all decided to clean it up and bury him. Many residents returned to their dark rooms and shacks, leaving me in an awkward situation. Of course the town I chose to rest in has a murder the night I stay. In my room, I quickly gathered my stuff and headed out. Sure, leaving in a rush could be suspicious, but I didn't care. I had nothing to hide.

I gave my key back to the old lady - Jeannie May Crawford - while she sat in her office. Yeah, the screaming and crying had definitely been fake. She was perfectly fine and content only a while after the whole scene.

It was still decently early in the morning, and the sun was a happy yellow. The air was a bit cooler, so I was a bit more comfortable than usual. I decided to at least check out the dinosaur's insides. Just as I turned the knob and opened the door, I immediately regretted it. A man in a dirty duster was holding a red beret in one hand and a large, spiky combat knife in the other. The knife threatened to lodge itself into a man with sunglasses and shaved head's neck. Their yelling was about to start until I interrupted.

The miserable looking man ripped the red hat from the others hand, "I can't believe you fucked up so bad," he said.

"I fucking swear it was him, man, okay? No one else could have done it," retaliated the other. My eyes lingered on him for a moment. He had bright purple hair, which was obviously eye-catching. A black, hoop piercing on the side of his lower lip suited his smirk. He caught me staring.

"Look, if you need to buy somethin', don't bother. Just take what you want and leave." He turned and faced the man with the red beret now on top of his head, who was making his way up a fleet of stairs. "Yeah, go sulk some more, Boone. It's all you ever do."

I threw my bag on the counter and starting loading it with stuff I could use. I mean, free water, food, ammo, why not? While tucking some more water bottles in the bottom of my bag, I felt eyes on me. My light brown eyes met this man's dark ones. My eyebrow quirked and he smirked.

"You leavin' town?" He asked as he leaned against a wall, his legs crossing.

I zipped up my bag, "Yes. I was just seeing what this building was before I left. I didn't mean to interrupt whatever that was."

He laughed, "That was an insecure and ungrateful asshole is all. Listen, I'm heading towards Vegas and could use a companion, you up for some traveling?" His eyes glinted with something, and I know it wasn't just the light shifting.

"Vegas? Isn't that farther north?" I asked, both curious about his offer and yet uninterested. He nodded and licked his lips, checking a pipboy on his wrist. My eyes lit up at the sight of it. Oh, how I'd kill to own that.

"Yeah, pretty far, too. I just really need -"

"That's in the complete opposite direction from where I'm headed, actually -"

"I need some help, it'll only-"

I threw my pack on my shoulders when he interrupted me and he stopped his blather.

"I'm sorry, I really can't." I told him, sincerely. I could get lost in this mans black orbs and I can't afford to do that. That glint in his eyes, that malicious, driven, tactical glint was dangerous. Add that with his smirk and lip bites - He may be some eye candy but I know trouble when I see it. He sighed loudly, and I decided to get out before he talked his way around it.

"Hold up," He called for me just as I passed the gate to this no vacancy town. "What's your name?"

I squinted - half from the sun and half from trying to think straight. My eyes filled with water as the seconds waited for my reply. What was my name?

I nervously scratched my neck, my fingertips brushing against a black, lace choker wrapped around it.

"It's Lacey," I told him, only hoping he'd buy it for the sake of not wanting to talk about it. I didn't really care about what he thought in the end, but it'd surely save my time.

"Lacey," he tested it out in his mouth, seeming to like it. I wondered if he'd like the taste of my real name. I rubbed my eye, straining to not have a break down. How can a human forget what they're called? What if I forget what Earth is, or fire, or love, or stars?

"What's your name, silver tongue?" I asked him. He smiled and came a few steps closer.

"Funny you should say that," he stuck his tongue out and pointed to a silver ball ornamentation. Now I know of two piercings he has, certainly strange garments for people in the wastes. He scratched the back of his head and smiled.

"They call me Six."


	2. Ch 2 Wasteland Savior

New Vegas was tempting. The miraculous place was certainly eye-catching and beamed brightly, forever showing off why people would be drawn to it. Civilization, safety, easy living, nice clothes. The protection is probably the biggest reason for why people stay. Walls of metal outside, guards of metal inside. I'm positive travelers stop there to check it out and decide to stay to leave their hard lives on the road. Plus, easy access to food, shelter, and relaxation.

And those people who love drinking, smoking, gambling, and fucking, whether they've always been that way or changed into the lifestyle of glamour, maybe aren't that bad. Who are we to judge? They could be acting that way because it feels good - so damn good that they forget about their problems. They forget about loved ones, wars between factions, crazy raiders, and deathclaws. If they want to forget, who are we to judge?

Certainly there are the wrong-doers taking residence there. People who scam and con innocent people out of their happiness. Or people who think that different opinions are wrong. All of the filth that only people, not mutants, hold within - lust, narrow minds, greed for everything, this all makes it easy for me to avoid New Vegas.

However, a man with no name, no background, and no meaning to me was still able to convince me to head there with him. Six made a promise that if I helped him out at the Strip, he'd help me find the Brotherhood. The damn smooth talker had charisma, brains, and blackmail at the ready. "If you don't join me, you'll never find the brotherhood," he said. Yes I would. "But I'll protect you", he said. I'd be fine, I argued. He ripped my necklace from my neck and told me I'd never get it back if I refused. "You're right," I had told him.

All of his qualities wrapped around my neck like chains, urging me onward with him and filling in the feeling of my now missing necklace. Following him was reckless. He was obviously just trying to get what he wanted, and was willing to use anyone if it means helping him.

Yet I still find myself stepping into his boots tracks like a child as he leads the way. They're the only trail I've got to follow as of now, I just pray I'm not lead to my death. A lace necklace could be the death of me. True, it was important to me. I'd been wearing it when I traveled and when I'd become a person who was missing their past. It must have some importance if I'd had it on all this time, right? Surely. After all, it gave me a name when my memory could not. However, as much as I did want it back, I wouldn't miss it too much. Definitely not enough to walk into a deal that had red flags and alarms. The real reason I followed him for the next few days was because he was enticing and fascinating.

We've made good time. Between his ability to snipe off potential threats on the Mojave roads and the quick pace he's set for us, we reached Vegas in no time. When we approached the Securitrons guarding the strip, we ran into a problem that sent us back through Freeside.

A scream and clash of glass echoed into the night as I spoke, "You traveled so far, following all of these leads to Benny for days with me, and didn't bring enough caps to even reach him?" I questioned.

Six laughed and glanced sideways at me, smirking as always, "I'm sure I can get enough. This place is full of opportunities, Lacey. Look around." I now laughed, but more so to myself. Looking around, all I could see were broken buildings, people drugged out of their minds, strippers, and hopelessness. The air reeked of trash and vomit while the sky drowned in light pollution. There were zero chances to accomplish anything here.

Bright lights caught Six's attention, and I smiled at the way his head slightly tilted and his lips were dampened by his slippery tongue. Purple neon shapes of men dancing surrounded the sign, "King's." Six was enthralled when he went inside. People praising him fueled his ego.

These men ate him up. They adored his good looks and I could see the charm radiating off of him, filling their lungs. It was a drug and they've become addicted. The kings loved him so much that they introduced him to the King himself.

Beautiful woman strutted around the King in very short nightgowns, their hair and makeup as frazzled as their air-filled heads. I had to give them credit, though. This place and this man were definitely ideal choices in keeping themselves safe from Freeside's dangers.

The King fell for Six at first glance, I mean who wouldn't. The slight dirt on his strong face, that evil smirk occasionally accompanied by his bright smile, his black lip piercing. His dark eyes and demanding voice, the way he'd sometimes bite his tongue during a smile, plus that blindingly bright purple hair that covered half his head and drooped over his eye before running a hand through it to keep it back. The way his duster, boots, jeans, and half shaved head screamed "Mojave wasteland savior" attracted me to him. Why not everyone else?

These two laughed and talked for a long time. And all the while I could see the low-key battle between whose charm was more effective. The King seemed genuine in his conversation, but I could tell Six was seeing this as a competition. It's why the King ended up liking him, because Six tried so hard to be liked. I almost choked from the laugh I held in as I watched the King giving him a pass to enter the Strip. He was addicted, too, now.


	3. Ch 3 Six's Hands

Swank, a chairman from the Tops, was introduced to Six's charisma by Six's hands. What else could be expected? These chairmen, too, radiated charisma. In my opinion, though, their version of intoxicating charm both couldn't measure up to Six's and was quite annoying. They talked with funny words and accents while smiling with clean faces and strutting their ironed suits. Six was refreshing. Six was dirty, direct, handsome, smooth, and new. Swank said Benny should be around, and so we started off with the bottom floor.

Woman and men alike looked up at Six with curious eyes. "Is that a scar," "You ever kill people," "You look so strong," "Tell us a story!" I was led by Six's hands as he tightly held mine to make sure I wasn't pushed behind him as he smiled and winked at these people, apologizing as he pushed through.

"My deepest condolences - it's not often you see a man of the wasteland so open to your questions, but I must go," he said, walking towards a hallway with a jutting sign reading, "Restrooms." Ladies yelled to him that it wasn't often wasteland wanderers were so handsome, and he kissed their hands. Six was surely pulling out all of the moves, now.

He checked behind him before shoving me into the girl's bathroom and following me in. Apparently it was too crowded to spot even the ugliest of suits, the trademark of Benny.

"You're going to get in trouble for being in here-"

"That's if I get caught - Here." He smiled and shoved a bag into my hands before I finished. My eyes scrunched in confusion and he ushered me into a stall.

"Change into that. This is where you come in, my lovely Lacey." I snorted at that. I wasn't too good looking, and I wasn't his.

I went in that stall wearing dirty leather armor, and came out in a dark red dress and black heels. I held up the last item from the bag and questioned him, "My necklace?" He chewed his lip and floated towards me.

"You look even more magnificent than I imagined. And yes, the lace choker for Lacey. You're finished once we do this last thing. Well, if those mongrels don't eat you up first." Six took the necklace and moved my hair out of the way. I laughed, he always makes me chuckle. Once he clasped the necklace onto my pale skin, he asked why I laughed.

"They'll surely eat you first," I stated. He smiled - not smirked, but genuinely smiled.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head - I'm used to this."

My eyes stayed focused on his. He searched me up and down, fixing whatever he saw as broken. The waist wasn't tied tightly enough, my feet should be closer together, my lips needed more color, my face should be washed, there was dirt in my hair, blood in my fingernails... All of these things he fixed. A dirty mirror showed a girl who I could now believe was Lacey. It was so unnatural to see me in the red cocktail dress that it had to have been a different person. Yes, this was Lacey, not a girl from the northern Brotherhood ranks. This was Lacey and Six.

Six had apparently wanted Lacey to be a beautiful broad in a dark red, short velvet cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline and black ruffle on the bottom. He wanted her with her hair done up and black heels to make her fishnet-covered legs longer. Lacey, however, did not like it.

"Why are you dressing me up?" I asked as I watched Six's hands throw my armor into the bag. I already missed the revolver from my hip, the rifle on my back, the magazines in my pockets and the knife in my boot. I was utterly defenseless for the rest of the night.

"Have you seen yourself?" Six asked me, showing me my own reflection for the umpteenth time. Six's hands worked themselves around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder, observing us in the mirror.

"I get that you think I'm beautiful, but I don't understand."

Six went and washed the dirt from his face, which eventually revealed a brutal scar on the front of his head. It was hidden just under the bangs of his hair. I chewed my now red lip as I wondered about it.

"You have to be so beautiful that everyone sees you before me. I know you don't talk much, but I need you to try and be charming. Can you do that? And stop that." He faced me now.

"Stop what? And why am I doing this?"

"Don't chew your lip, I just got the lipstick on them. And because you wanted your necklace back."

I rubbed my lips together to fix their stained color. Six smiled and took my hand in his, "Ready?" He asked as he pulled me out of the bathroom.

The casino was even more packed than before. The lights exposed the thick amount of cigarette and cigar smoke that would forever smell in the walls, floor, and clothes on these people. Everyone had a drink and a smile. I gulped as Six pushed me forward.

He began to whisper frantically, "Ugly black and white checkered suit. You've got to get him to his room, which should be easy because you are so god damn beautiful. I'll be there to help. Just stall and keep him up there, okay?"

My ear went cold when the hot breath from his whispers no longer guided me. I, alone, walked around, very nervous. Attention came my way as soon as I was in the poorly lit and loud room.

"Doll, babe, gorgeous, beautiful, woman, lady, miss, ma'am, honey, lovely," Words were thrown at me like the bullets from a minigun. My eyes searched the men and women surrounding me. None had suits that Six described. When it they withheld their words from me and stood there, eyes sparkling and ears waiting, I panicked. I missed Six's hands guiding me through these people.

"Uh, what?" I asked, cheeks turning to roses at the laughter from all of them. I twiddled my fingers and nervously smiled with them. No, Six, I could not be charming.

Once again they bombarded me with questions and I grew dizzy from the confusion. I couldn't keep up with their hungry stares and loud words. I took a step back and they continued to drool and praise. My head spun - the smoke in my nose, the laughter in my ears, the light in my eyes - I started to fall when I was suddenly caught by strong arms.

"Baby, a few too many, huh?" Said the voice behind me, followed by his chuckle mixing with everyone else's. I was turned around, barely able to take the small steps in these tall heels, and Six's strong arms held me close to him. He dismissed the people who lingered - most of the men had left when they saw that Lacey belonged with Six. My eyes stared up at him.

"You went even more pale than usual out there, kid," he told me before planting a kiss on my lips. He pulled away before my brain had time to register what just happened. He locked out arms and began to walk the farther end of the casino.

"I'm not a kid," I said. He ignored me.

"Don't linger on that move, it's just for show," he told me. I gulped and looked at the ground. Six no longer wore his boots - he now had nice black shoes. He changed from his wasteland outfit into black sleeks and a white tee covered with an open black blazer. Once again, he whispered to me.

"He's surrounded by those chairmen over there," he said to me before quickly walking to towards the gambling tables. I continued taking steps towards that checker-board suit. What would I do? What would I say?

Apparently nothing.

A chairman gently took my hand and led me to Benny. He spoke of how I looked ravishing and Benny wanted to speak. He asked if I was willing but Benny kissed my hand before I could even answer.

"Not many classy dolls like you wander into here. What's your name, you beautiful broad?" Benny asked as he held my hands in front of us.

"Lacey," I said nervously, my gaze looking at our intertwined fingers. He pulled me closer.

"May I ask what you're here for, pussycat?" My eyes met his with the strange nickname. He was smiling and watching me very closely.

"I just wanted to find someone," I told him. I'd never been a good liar, so walking around it could be a better option.

He held up a glass of wine and I shook my head to decline the offer. "And who should be so lucky?" He asked before taking a small sip of the dark red liquid.

"Anyone," I breathed. Benny's arm snaked around my waist and held me close to his side.

"Hmm," he feigned a thought, "Do I count as anyone?" He asked. I suppose now was my chance.

"It appears as though I've caught your attention," I perceived. He chuckled.

"Maybe it was the innocent face, maybe the dress, or your hair? Heck, it could be those mile long legs, baby, you've been the only broad in my eye since you stepped that velvet stiletto in here."

I caught the eyes of girls who weren't paying attention to Six. Their gazes all lingered on Benny. "These girls want you," I tell him. He nods.

"Brainless. They like my looks - I think some could be nice, but I'd love to get to know a girl so we can stick together, ya dig?" My heart sped up as I used my finger on his chin to force his gaze upon mine, a move I've seen Six do to charm his way into information. My hands were far shakier than Six's hands.

"I'd love that," I told him. He smiled and planted a kiss on my cheek.

"There's still no shame in fun, though," he told me and began to walk away. It wasn't until my arm stretched out in front of me that I realized he had my hand in his.

Benny's hands were not as rough as Six's hands. His were soft, clean, and warm. He leisurely walked with me lagging behind him until we came to an elevator. He stepped in first, and I turned my head before entering. My eyes met with Six's dark ones just as I stepped inside.

I was against the wall in a flash, his hands on the sides of my head and lips crashing into mine. I barely had the skill to keep up with him, but he lead me on anyway. A quiet "ding" followed by the sliding of doors lead Benny to hoist me up, my legs around his waist. My mind was racing with anxiety. I really, really, really did not want to have sex with this man.

Benny laid me down on a bed - when did we get into a room? - and straddled me. Panicked rose in my chest, escaping as short, quick breaths. He sat up and began sliding off his suit jacket. I watched as he slowly slid out one arm, and just as the other was out of its sleeve, I built up enough courage to speak.

My mouth opened, "Benny, it's been a while," The air was hitched in my throat. They were not my words. Benny was frozen above me. My heart sped up its beating when Six's voice spoke again.

"I'm leaving you no time for excuses, Benny. You fucked with my head, ya know. That bullet took my memory" a gun cocked, "Mine will take your last breath."

Benny was ripped from being upon me, his back landing harshly on the ground. No words had the chance to beg or apologize or explain. Benny was murdered by Six's hands.


	4. Ch 4 For You, Too

A nightmare woke me up later that night. Six had comforted me after leaving The Tops in a hurry. He told me to wait there over and over before leaving. "Three hours," he repeated, "You wait here three hours and then meet me at Vault 21."

I suppose he assumed people would think we were behind Benny's murder if we left so quickly together. We were, obviously, but so far nobody has even heard of his death. It's a strange thing, waiting to find out someone died. You'd assume death is something you notice immediately, but what if you're alone? Days, weeks - how long until people from the east assumed I was dead? I was, technically. My life was indeed taken from me. All that classified me as alive right now was my beating heart.

Six paid for the room we now shared in Vault 21. I wiped the sweat from my forehead. Trying to ease my scared breathing, I swung my legs from the bed to the floor and made my way to the bathroom sink. The pants Six let me borrow barely clung to my hips and I had to keep pulling them up, but I was still grateful for them. I let the sink's water run for a while to heat up, and eventually splashed it on my face. It felt good and made my hands feel cold every time they went back to the air conditioned vault air. So I sat with my hands collecting the water which was slowly getting hotter and hotter.

My mind was locked on the face in my dream, a boy that was bright and smiley. He had brown curly hair and amber eyes that sparkled when his teeth happily showed. He was brutally murdered in my dream and all though I had no clue about who he was, I felt as though someone close left me. Perhaps this was the face I couldn't picture as my brother. His face sent warmth directly into my heart, and I began to cry. First the tears flooded my lower eyelids, slowly dripping down my cheeks. Then, after I began bawling, Six's sleepy voice called for me. I didn't answer, of course. I couldn't. He came in and rubbed my shoulders, his voice sounding less and less sleepy as he continued asking me what was wrong, if I was okay, and shooshing me.

I swear I cried harder with every word of his. He was making me feel pathetic, though I don't believe that was his intention.

With a hardy gulp, I spoke up, "How are you okay?" My voice squeaked from holding in the tears, but I know he heard me. His head tilted. Six went through his days like forgetting the whole past life someone has lived was meaningless. Did he - could he truly suppress all emotions, all thoughts and attempts and reasons for remembering his life down into the blackness of his heart?

He turned the sink off and I shivered as he pulled me close to him. The hot water running all this time made it steamy and wet in here, the warm temperature helping a headache I felt coming on.

"I'm not okay with you crying in the middle of the night, if that's-" I shook my head and he sighed.

"I meant with your head," My words made his eyebrows quirk. I stared up at him, probably looking so small and vulnerable to him right now and I hated it. My hand moved his bangs back to reveal that scar. That bullet wound that was mostly hidden throughout the day. My thumb brushed over the scarred tissue and he eyed me curiously. Did this make him feel vulnerable too?

"I'm not," was all he offered.

I scoffed, "Of course you're not," I said. I pulled myself from him and made my way to the bed we shared. As I sat, I rubbed my eyes. Six followed and sat beside me, for once in his life being at a loss for words.

"You spent much time chasing down vengeance that burned brighter than the sun within yourself. Why?" I asked, wording my question slowly and deliberately.

"I," he hesitated, "Was mad. He stopped me from completing a job I had to finish and got me involved in a massive situation that I had no business being in." I wanted to ask about the bullet, his memory, his whole life. Was he not mad over losing that? Perhaps by avoiding that subject I can say I think he really does feel vulnerable when talking about it. Perhaps that's why I still haven't mentioned my forgotten memory, especially now. I was already being perceived as weak in this moment.

"Did you have a mother?" I asked abruptly. Again, he hesitated, and I felt powerful for having the advantage of words for once.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," he tried to joke; So obviously tried to joke, like he always did. Nothing was personal for him. I'd assumed he used people like tools simply because he lacked ethics and morals, but perhaps he had just forgotten about people he cared about. If you have no one to care about, then you care about no one.

I laughed and wiped the new salty tears that fell - they were slow and simply fell from pity.

"You can't remember. Not anything," I told him. He didn't say yes or no, it wasn't a question.

After a while of him twiddling his fingers and me finally calming down, Six recommended that we both sleep. He told me he'd show me something I'd enjoy tomorrow and I felt both excited and terrified. I still didn't trust him.

The feeling of warmth leaving my side woke me up. Six rolled his neck and sifted through a pile of clothes for his day-to-day outfit as I sat up.

"Good morning," he offered, low-key eyeing me to see if I was doing better than last night. I repeated his greeting as he changed his shirt. I, too, changed my clothes as he explained that a friend of his would help us. I'd have asked a billion questions if he'd given me time, but he was eager to pack his things and leave.

Our traveling was mostly silent, though not in an awkward sense. I broke it when we passed a park with fliers on the wall that caught my attention.

"What's this park called?" I asked him as I walked up to a poster on the wall. Six stayed put and scratched his neck.

"Aerotech Office Park. Why?"

I ripped the flier from the wall and hungrily read it over.

"It's true," I said to myself. Six questioned me and I smiled and bounced towards him, the excitement and hope rising up like a sunrise.

"It's true! The rumors were true, Six! There's a doctor coming!" I shoved the poster in his face.

"A traveling doctor? Why do you need a doctor?" He asked. My eyebrows scrunched together. I forgot I never told him that I was like him; That I, too, had lost my memory from an injury.

"He's a brain surgeon," I told him.

Six tilted his head and handed the paper back to me. It got folded and tucked into my bag.

"So?"

I scoffed, deciding not to tell him about my injury just yet. Perhaps if I could turn this around to be about Six he'd be more willing to meet with him.

"He can fix yer broken little head, Six," I said in a sympathetic voice. My hand ruffled up his hair and I giggled. He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

"You're the one with a head that needs fixin'," he told me. I laughed - he had no idea how much truth that statement held.

"Come on, he'll be here for like three weeks so I'll give it some thought." I smiled and followed him as he spoke. Perhaps I will dream of familiar faces again.

We reached our destination. Trading post 188 took about the whole day to reach. Six led me up the highway. A woman in ragged clothing was standing with her hands hoisting her head up as she leaned on the highways wall. She stared out into dusk.

Six approached her calling out, "Veronica, I need your help again."

The girls face went from excited and curious to annoyed and anxious in a flash. How did Six know this girl? Because she didn't seem to like him.

I hung back as the two talked. Well, more like whispered. The two glanced back at me as they continued their hushed conversation. I could take a hint, it was obviously none of my business what they were discussing. However I couldn't help but feel insecure. They couldn't have been talking about me, how immature that would be. Right?

"We'll spend the night here and get going in the morning," Six told me as he brushed by. We all ended up lighting a fire under the highway, beside a large and ancient blue bus.

As we set up some sleeping mats, Six practically ignored me. It's not that I tried to initiate conversation with him - he was usually the one to do that. However as we stood by the barrel of fire, he remained stone faced. Where was his radiant charisma?

Veronica was at least nice. She introduced herself to me. We chatted on the most basic level of small talk one could come up with. Six moved from the barrel of fire to sitting on his sleeping mat.

"Veronica, do you not have a sleeping mat?" I asked as I only counted mine and Six's. She shook her head.

"No. I normally don't need one, but I hadn't expected for Six here to stop by," she told me. My face must've shown pity because she soon started telling me not to worry and that sleeping on the ground would be fine.

I offered her mine and she immediately refused, and Six's snicker was the only thing that kept me from arguing with her.

"Something funny, Six?" I asked him, gently kicking his leg.

He rolled over onto his back, one leg bent and an arm being used as a pillow, "You're just too kind, Lacey."

I scowled into his face. It was being sculpted by shadows and light from the flickering fire, making it look like he was switching between scowling and laughing. I went and sat with my back against the concrete wall.

"Well if Veronica doesn't sleep on that mattress, no one is. I'll sleep right here," I stated. I kept my arm through the strap of my back which now laid on the ground beside me. After a bit of her standing around, looking unsure, she laid herself on the mat.

"Thank you," she told me, and I waved a hand to blow it off. It really wasn't a big deal, after all. And all though my back, neck, and tailbone ached, I eventually fell asleep. It must have been about 4 hours until I felt strong arms hoist me up.

Six spoke into my ear when he laid me down, "That nice attitude of yours could get you killed," he said and laid in front of me. We laid on the small mattress until the sun rose, like two spoons in a drawer. I loved Six's attitude when he was nice and caring.

His bursts of kindness only made me wonder more about him. Was he this nice before his injury? Because if that were the case, I only wanted for his head to be fixed even more than before. Yes, I wanted mine fixed, too, but wanting Six added to that fuel. I wanted to know who Six used to be. I wanted to know who Lacey used to be. Would they get along better than this? I wanted so badly to tell Six about my head and how much we had in common what with not knowing ourselves or how to act or even our names.

I wanted to say, "We're the same, Six. Just show me who you really are and I'll show you." I wanted for him to want to get to know what Lacey used to be called and to want to know what Six used to be called.

"The surgery is for me," I'd tell him, "but it's for you, too."

My fingers rubbed my lace necklace as I imagined us laughing together and discovering ourselves. Silly Lacey, you knew he was trouble. You knew he'd be devious and deceitful and you knew you'd be hooked. However, the next morning, as Six woke up and talked privately with Veronica, I wondered more about the darkness within Six rather than the old light. Veronica returned silently crying to herself and I pretended to be asleep until she stopped. How could I let myself forget about the evils I see swarming Six everyday? He was, after all, the night. His rays of sunshine had lowered behind the horizon the moment he lost his memory, it would seem. All he knew now was the darkness and blackness of this new man called Six.


	5. Ch 5 Antebellum

Six left without telling me. My heart sunk into my stomach and my stomach rose to my throat. How could he leave me? Wasn't I his lovely Lacey, the companion he needed help from? My nails carved crescents into my palms as I balled my fists.

"There's more," Veronica told me. And more she indeed told.

Now, I didn't at first understand why she spilled out her heart and soul to me. But as she cried and explained that Six had some sort of hold over a girl she was in love with, I assumed it was because she wanted me to understand one thing: Six is bad news. I felt truly sorry for Veronica. He could get her to do anything for him simply with the threat of hurting a girl she loved.

"Why don't you go save her," I asked her. Six apparently wouldn't give up the location of her beloved. Of course he wouldn't, he was playing this smart. Blood seeped down my hands, a drop or two falling from my middle knuckles. That conniving bastard had me finally willing to let him in, and this has set any hope of that miles out of reach.

"Where'd he go," I asked Veronica. She said he went back to Vegas and had tasked her to bring me to the Brotherhood.

I was stuck, now. I wanted to find Six and force him to take me to the Brotherhood of Steel. He was taking the easy way out of his part of the bargain; I'd help him, he'd help me. This was cheating. Yet at the same time, I wanted to find them as quickly as possible. Maybe going back to Six was a bad idea. Maybe it'd be best to leave with a bad image of him so that I'd never want to see him again. However, with this girl caught in a blackmail trap wiping her tear-swollen eyes sitting in front of me, I knew that the Brotherhood could wait.

My fists unclenched as I calmed down. The blood was drying and the stretching of the skin that pulled as I flexed my hands stung the carved cuts.

I looked at my hands as I spoke, "Veronica, why are you telling me this?"

"Because," she responded, "I saw how you followed him without question when you showed up here. I thought that maybe you saw the wrong side of him."

"From the moment I first met him I knew he was a bad person. I've seen him lie, cheat, steal, and manipulate. I know he's a bad person right now. But maybe," I pulled the folded poster from my bag and handed it to her, "Maybe he wasn't always this way."

As Veronica read it over, I could see the clicking of gears work in her head, "You think he's broken from his brain injury?"

I nodded, "I have an injury, too, and I feel like I'd be a different person - or maybe I'm already a different person - if it weren't for my messed up brain. I've spent a good deal of time with him, and I truly feel like he has compassion and kindness and the capability to be a really good person."

She laughed. Veronica actually started laughing. It began as a snort and blossomed into an oxygen deprived cackle as she keeled over on the ground.

"Veronica!" I whined.

"I'm sorry! But," she laughed through her words, "Six is not a good person. He's manipulated you just like everyone else. He doesn't actually care about you, ya know."

Her words hurt. They worked themselves right into the truth I had already known but had locked away in hope of Six being fixed. The pain was the key to unlocking those realizations, and I didn't like it.

"Besides," she started as I bit my nails, "How do you know he'd even be willing to do that? You know he wants to rule New Vegas, right?"

I was aghast, "What?" I breathed.

"I was his companion for a while, Lacey. When he hunted down Benny he got sidetracked in side problems. We never made it to Freeside because he wanted a reputation or something. That's when he found my girlfriend - during one of his adventures. It was far away and he was gone a long time. When he got back, he had riches and blackmail and an even cockier smile than before. It's the only reason he knows where the bunkers are."

Veronica told him where the Brotherhood bunkers were hidden?

"Why'd you tell him that? Didn't you question why he'd want that information in the first place?" I practically yelled at her.

She flinched back a bit, "I didn't want him to kill her. Haven't you ever been in love, Lacey?"

I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, "Does he support the Brotherhood?"

She shook her head, "No, why are you so worked up over that?"

My eyes were wide and my mouth hung open. How could she not see it? "You just told me he wants to rule New Vegas. If the Brotherhood had any chance of getting in the way, he'd-"

She gasped, her eyes seeing ghosts, "He's gonna kill my whole family."

The sun said noon by the time Veronica and I reached the bunkers. A sand storm was dying down as we reached the gates. Smoke came up from several vents we passed in this valley of Brotherhood bunkers, and I could see how nervous Veronica was.

As she approached a bunker, I could see terror in her eyes. She yanked at the door but it wouldn't budge. Veronica started screaming, "It's me! It's Veronica, open up!" Still nothing. Tears fell from her broken eyes.

"Why won't it open?" She said as she fell to her knees. I gulped and observed the door. It was bent outwards towards us, as if impact from an explosion had forced its strong metals away. Six must have done this just hours before we got here. Why would he send us here only to find his aftermath? It made no sense.

"Veronica, we need to go," I told her, pulling her up from behind. She wailed out into the bright sky as I hoisted her to her feet. She knew the truth, she knew what Six did. He blew them up, making sure that at least one faction of the Mojave area wouldn't get in his way. More anger surged like electricity in my veins. This was too far. They were part of my family, too, in a way. Now, I've lost contact with my home. My initial mission was to reach them, or at least that's what I believed. And what of my squad? What if they had indeed reached here after whatever incident took place around Goodsprings? Tears threatened to fall from my face, too, but I wouldn't let them.

Veronica clung to me as I lead her away. We headed north. Veronica and I stuck to the main roads and didn't say a word. She knew where we were going, and I was happy that she followed me the whole way. Veronica sold the food she gathered for her family so we could afford to make it to the strip. There was no emotion on her face, but I sensed the blackness beneath that pretty shell.

Music blared, lights flashed, caps jingled, drunks stumbled, and hookers danced. Veronica and I were covered in Mojave dust and sweat and blood - completely out of place. It felt good to be seen in my armor rather than a silly red dress. I scratched my chin and brushed my necklace as we looked around.

"Holy shit..." Mumbled Veronica. Six waltzed out of the Lucky 38 in his iconic duster.

I looked curiously at Veronica, "It's just that, well, nobody ever gets into the Lucky 38," she told me. Of course it'd be Six who made it inside. Whose heart did he twist around to reach that? My eyes focused on a tall man with blonde hair and thick glasses. Already Six had a new person to use?

"Let's go," Veronica's voice brought my eyes from his new partner's face to hers. Before I could say anything she was walking towards the two. This was reckless, waking in there without a plan. But perhaps reckless was what Six couldn't handle. His face went as white as his friends lab coat when he saw us approach him.

"Ladies, what are you doing here?" He asked.

"You're..." Veronica's voice faded. I rubbed her back and she looked down.

"How could you do that," I spat at him. He smiled nervously.

"Look, I'm sorry for leaving without a goodbye kiss, Lacey, but I ha-"

I laughed loudly in the middle of him talking, "Hah! Imbecile, not you leaving. How could you destroy her family. Family!"

He scrunched his eyebrows and stepped closer to me, "You accusing me of something?"

I tested him and got right in his face, "Oh we know it was you."

Veronica tugged me back, "You're a monster. I planned on killing you right here in the streets!" She swung her metal-covered fist at him and it would have landed right in his nose if his friend hadn't hadn't pulled Six aside.

"Listen, you'll have to explain whatever you think I did to me another time. I was about to come back to grab Lacey," he looked at me and smiled.

"That makes no sense, Six. You left and blew up the Brotherhood and thought somehow you'd catch up with us?" Now I knew he was lying. He'd planned to see us here, he planned for us to try and take revenge on him here. Maybe that way when we died, he could say it was out of self defense and people would love him even more.

"Wait, you blew up the Brotherhood?" His friend asked.

"Lacey, listen to me. I'm going to that brain surgeon right now. You wanted me to go, right?" He stepped towards me and took both of my hands into his.

My eyes searched his for anything kind. His dark, emotionless, driven stare bored into my begging face. I wanted so badly for Six to be a decent human being. The shocks his hands shot into mine every time they touched and the kind words and acts he can take upon me when he's not in it for personal gain sent images of us into my brain. My heart yearned for Six. It yearned for the kindness Six I knew he held within. Yet I only saw darkness in those black orbs.

"Are you really?" I said quietly. He smiled and nodded, keeping one of my hands in his as he led us away from the filthy Strip and to Aerotech Office Park. All the while Veronica whispered that I was being lied to and played, but I could barely hear her as I pictured his black eyes becoming bright and happy with his memories returned.

But as we reached the entrance to Aerotech, Veronica screamed and Six threw me down. Men came out of nowhere and I barely fought back against their hands. My mind was numb. He'd done it, he'd used me and was sending me to my death. All this time, his flirting and company had been to get me close to him. Six felt nothing and would forever feel nothing. The men tied my hands and ankles together, Veronica cried and screamed and begged to be let go, "Christine," she screamed, "Christine save me!"

These men wore red and upon realizing that, I just knew that Six had been the devil before losing his memory. These were his demons doing his dirty work. My swollen eyes met his companions.

"You're so dead," I told him, and he looked extremely uncomfortable. I started to laugh. I laughed at how stupid I was, at how smart Veronica was, and at how evil Six was. He'd been digging my grave with every step of the way and I willingly laid as he covered me with dirt.

Whoever I created Lacey to be was certainly dumb. Was my past self this incompetent? Did I truly not see that this whole time spent with Six was just before a war between us - our antebellum? As I was dragged I saw people who heard the commotion trying to help.

"Legion!" They screamed, scurrying for weapons and courage. No shots were fired. Whoever the legion was truly sent fear into these people. Veronica's silly cries still begged for people to shoot. "Shoot anything," she yelled, "Shoot them, shoot me, just shoot!"

As Veronica and I were thrown into the back of a wagon, I caught Six's eyes. He smiled and turned, his companion following him. My vision went black as something blunt hit the back of my head, and all I dreamt of were ways to kill Six.


	6. Ch 6 Living

I learned very quickly not to speak.

A young woman made a comment to a man in red about how he should be ashamed. Her nose bled for hours after his metal-covered fist broke it.

I also learned not to look up at the men in red, especially with a gaze that showed negative emotion.

A male, this time. He scowled at a man in red, dead into his eyes. That man was whipped right there on the spot, "For his ignorance." I'd never seen whip lashes bleed before.

I think we were being baked alive inside of a red tent. No air blew and I felt like heat from the sun could enter, but none could leave. There was blood on the sand in here, both old, crusty blood and some that hadn't even been there long enough to completely congeal. I avoided it at all costs; innocent blood on my hands was a living nightmare.

More men in red showed up, barking orders like a dog barks at a cat. They began shoving us, pulling us around by our hair, spitting and cursing and preaching about how dissolute we were compared to them. Both women and men were being treated like something that wasn't a person. And because both women and men were being enslaved, I'd assumed that there wasn't a prejudice against any of the sexes. It became obvious once the women were separated from the men that I'd been incorrect. So then, why enslave both?

A red man with far more silver-plated armor than the others barked at us, saying that we belonged to someone called Caesar now. "You'll do as any legion officer commands, or you will be punished."

All of us women were left alone in that stuffy red tent for the slowest, hottest hours of my life. Each exhale only added to the heat; each inhale struggled to take oxygen from the air. All the while I couldn't block out the crying, neither from others nor myself. We all flinched when the flaps were ripped open, expecting the worst to happen. However, our tension visibly subsided as we saw another woman enter. She was tall and incredibly skinny. A few other women entered behind her, wearing the same solemn faces and dirty cloth-woven robes. It was most definitely nightfall by now.

A red "X" was painted - in blood, perhaps? - across these women's fronts and backs. It wasn't until they reached the center of the room that I noticed them carrying baskets.

The tallest one, who wore a feather or two in her hair, pulled out a black, chunky necklace. "A collar," she explained, "One that you'll wear forever. You run away, then they explode and your head diminishes into red flowers. Understand?" My fingers rubbed my lace choker between them.

One by one, those three women clasped an explosive collar around everyone's necks. As they approached, they handed us clothes that seemed identical to theirs, both in looks and lack of cleanliness. The tall one with the feathers in her hair approached me. Her gaze did not meet mine, no matter how obvious I made it that I stared violently into her amber ones. She handed me the robes, and began reaching to clasp this enslavement-device around me when she noticed my choker. I could feel her fingers trying to remove it before I spoke up.

"I'm not taking it off," I told her.

She tucked her silky hair behind her ear, "You'll have a constant itch and irritation if you leave it on with this. It's best we take it off."

"Can't you help us?" I asked. She again reached for my necklace, but I scooted back.

Her eyes finally met mine. They were not empty, as I expected. Sadness and pity subsided there, and I wondered if she was still able to cry. Would she cry for us? Did she cry for herself?

"How long have you been here?" I asked. She successfully took off my necklace.

"Years." she said, "I'm supposed to confiscate everything you may have showed up with." She took my hand and opened it, laying my choker inside.

"I can see it in your eyes that this is precious to you. Do not get caught with it or we will both be punished, yes?" My swollen eyes popped more tears out at that.

Mark the time, for this was the moment I realized completely that I had reached my end. My necklace was off and so I no longer had a name. If I no longer had a name then I was no longer a person. No, not just that, but I was no longer anything because anything and everything had a name. Everything. An animal is precisely that; they even get names to show personality and value. Sunsets, smoke, sawdust, gunpowder, light, everything was more valuable than I was. And this woman before me, "What's your name," I asked her.

"I'm called Venus. It is not really important or meaningful."

She left me like that, and I cried violent and disgusting sobs. I didn't deserve to cry, for only something with valuable emotion should cry. Otherwise it's useless. And that's what I was, that's what crying would do for me: Nothing.

I'd say that I myself was nothing but even nothingness has a name, a feeling, a reason.

We all passed out from exhaustion with nothing else to do.

We were transferred from one tent to another the next morning like cattle. A rope tied us all together by our wrists and like children were led in a single file line to different places. A few girls were offered to these red men - legion men, they were called? I was not one of the sacrifices each time.

I'd noticed at one point that the sun had barely even woken up yet. I wondered if it could see how pathetic we were and didn't want to see such sorry sights, so it lacked light to lower visibility. I liked the sun for that, it was kind.

My stomach was making noises that had become painful begs for food. Everyone's seemed to cry out of starvation. It wasn't until nightfall that we received something to eat, and all though they were stale crackers, we still devoured them.

Crunches and sniffles quietly filled the humid tent with noise, possibly being the only thing keeping all of us sane. Would we get water, too? Silence, starvation, dehydration, confusion, and curiosity with absolutely no doubt swirled around everyone's heads. It was the perfect potion for madness. How long until we lost our minds? Upon the last hard swallow of my crusty cracker, I let my eyes wander over the two women who had accompanied Venus some nights ago.

For some reason, they made me feel like a little girl. Lacey, such a childish sounding name, like a girl trying to be pretty for a petty crush. Venus, though, Venus radiated status, power, womanhood. Not just the name, but her aura. I hadn't even realized I was standing in front of her until she greeted me.

"What will happen," I started, "What will happen to those girls who were taken by legionaries earlier today?"

Venus gently pulled at my arm so I would sit in front of her. "I cannot say. Whatever the men want them to do, those girls will do."

"What of the men that were in chains?"

"They'll become men in red."

"Will they become cruel?"

"What is your name," Venus suddenly asked.

"I'm," I stopped for a split second, recalling how precisely Venus had worded it, "I am called Lacey. It is not really important or meaningful."

"Lacey," her eyes were sympathetic, her hand overlapped mine, "Everyone in the legion is cruel."

We received water in the morning, and surprisingly lots of it. We were also fed a strange fish cake. Mirelurk cakes at home were far softer and tastier. These ones were as dry as sand. Again it was all the female slaves shoved into a tent, nothing but chewing and anxiety ringing through the air.

Venus wasn't within the tent. I'd looked over every face twice and was positive she wasn't here. When I asked one of the two girls that is usually accompanying her, she avoided eye contact and said that she was probably busy somewhere. I'd almost started complaining that she was so obviously hiding something but everyone went silent. All eyes were on a legionnaire who had entered the tent.

"Stop what you're doing and come unload at the docks," he announced loudly. Nothing else. He was already gone, and people were actually getting up. I followed as second to the last.

My feet burned in the hot sand as I stood, even through the old rags that I wrapped around them. During the time that many slaves were gathering boxes and chests of supplies from a ferry, I'd avoided looking at the legion men and focused on the slaves.

It was so easy to pick out who had been here for years and who had just been pulled in. The experienced women were mostly skeletons, though a few seemed more well fed than others. Bags filled with sadness and exhaustion decorated their under-eyes while calloused skin was like a permanent glove. The women with no experience to this life - if it classified as such - still had decent posture, weak arms, soft hands and quenched thirsts for sleep. The calling of my name tugged me from my observations.

Venus was holding out a long box for me to carry, "Take this. Can you take more?" Already she was planting more boxes in my arms. My arms wavered a bit with the three.

My mouth opened and I began to ask her why she was unloading boxes, but I had already been led away by other women and legion men urging us all to certain places. I hadn't seen her until several hours after that.

Many women were cleaning plates, silverware, and glasses for an upcoming feast that'd later take place in a large tent. Venus and her other girls that always seemed to orbit her like a moon does a planet were taking charge amongst us. Everyone listened and obeyed her as if she were a queen.

I'd been drying whatever was handed to me with a dirty, dry-rotted towel as a girl name Siri handed them to me.

"Why," we had been talking much about the legion. Siri was blunt about the terrors that I should fear being done to me if stepped out of line or perhaps receiving any attention. I was beyond grateful to finally learn something about my captivity. "Why do they follow her like a queen?" I'd finally asked.

Our eyes rested on Venus, "She's enslaved by the Monster of the East."

"Aren't we all enslaved?"

"She's a slave to the legion like all of us, yes, but if a red man likes a woman, they may do what they please. That is the case, she is a slave to him. However, that man - if he dared be deemed such - has rumors floating around about him. He's more brutal and evil than any other in this entire faction."

"Are any of these people men," I'd almost whispered to myself. Siri met my eyes and in them I found my answer.

For some reason, something resonated within me that kept me so oblivious to my situation. My family was likely dead, a cruel man may rule the most powerful area in this whole Mojave, a monster resides within the same walls as I... My childish nature must be what's keeping me so calm, when would I grow up?

We finished the dishes. The feast began after a girl with pale skin broke a dish and was beaten until that porcelain blossomed with purple. She cried in the tent behind the rest of the slaves while we began to set up. I thought to myself- Why, this is not life at all.


End file.
